


lesson one

by tosca1390



Category: Hercules (1997)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390





	lesson one

*

 

Meg is progressive and nearly died and has met a god or two. She’s completely willing to follow Hercules back to his mansion on the hill and curl up in his bed without a second thought. 

What is interesting is that he doesn’t. 

“Um, Meg?”

She opens her eyes, looking up at him from the pillows. “Wonder Boy, what are you doing?”

He stands at the foot of the bed, hands twisted nervously in front of him. He’s changed out of his armor at last into a light toga. She’s never seen him so casual. 

“Do you want me to sleep elsewhere?” he blurts out, all flustered. 

Passing a hand through her hair, she sits up in bed. “No, of course not. Come on,” she said, shifting to the other side of the bed to make room for him. 

Slowly, he slips off his sandals and slides under the thin cool sheets. He’s tense and stiff, she can tell by just looking at him. It’s cute, and also a little sad. 

“You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?” she asks after a moment, still sitting up.

In the dim darkness, she watches as he shakes his head. It’s then that she understands what a dangerous gift the gods have laid in front of her. He is a demi-god, and he grew up on a farm, so he knows some things. But this is the closest to innocence she’s ever been, and she has to be gentle, and careful. She is the teacher now. 

The moonlight slips like white waves across the marble floor, inching towards the bed. She undoes her hair and lets it loose down her back. “I know this might be a little… scary,” she says after a moment, scooting towards him. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

His hand reaches out, brushes her waist. His warmth bleeds through the thin cotton of her shift. It makes her think of the infinite coldness of the underworld, and what he saved her from.

Licking her lips, she curls up to his side and presses close, kissing the strong line of his jaw. “Really, Hercules,” she says, soft and serious. Her heart is pounding so hard against her ribs, she’s sure he can hear it. “You picked me, and I picked you.”

His whole body seems to jolt with that. He rolls onto her and kisses her abruptly, his mouth hard and insistent on hers. All the breath presses out of her chest as she sinks into the softness of the bed, her fingers tangling in his thin toga. The air settles and thickens between them. 

He is heavy atop her; she hitches a leg over his hip and presses her hands to his shoulders, just for a moment of breath. “Hey. We have lots of time,” she whispers, breathing heavily. 

“I know, I just—I love you,” he says, all gruff eagerness. 

Her heart swells in her chest. She nudges him until he takes the hint to turn onto his back. Bracing herself on his chest, she straddles him across the waist, her hair falling loose over her shoulders and down to her waist. He is hard beneath her; a slow swell of heat rolls through her veins. She remembers this. 

“I love you too, Wonder Boy,” she says, voice catching, and leans down to kiss him, soft and slow. She takes his hand in both of hers. “Take your time,” she whispers against his mouth, laying his hand to her breast. 

The strength radiates from every line and sinew of muscle in his body. His hands, firm and even, slide under her shift and reach bare skin. The wonder on his face is amazing to watch; he touches her with gentleness and all exploration, changing and adjusting with her soft instruction. She is wet and wanting after no time at all, leaning down to take his hand and press it between her thighs as she kisses him. A soft breeze smelling of trees and olives cools the sweat trailing down the lines of her body.

His fingers slip into deep slick wetness and he swears, low and hollow and sweet in the night air. She sighs and moans his name. It’s as she remembers, strong fingers and the arch of her back; but now it’s better, because she’s not lost and lonely and under someone else’s thumb. For all his strength, she is never afraid he will break her. 

When her hand slips around his hard length, and he shudders and falls quiet, she is only afraid that she will end up breaking him. 

*


End file.
